


wrapped up in empathy

by hicsvntdracones



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, sad shmoopy soft boyfriends idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hicsvntdracones/pseuds/hicsvntdracones
Summary: "Hey," Nicky says on the other end, voice just as soft and fond. Mike looks at his watch and knows it's just past one in the morning in DC. "Congrats on the hatty." "You were watching?" He asks, and Nicky says of course like there's no other answer to give. He says it now the way he said it a year ago when Mike scored his first goal in Detroit and Nicky called just the same. "Thanks," He says, and then, "I'm glad you were watching."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/gifts).



> uh. idk. this is just. sad shmoopy soft long-distance boyfriends. i am a sucker for post-game fics, as the record shows, so here's something for after the wings vs sens game on 10/17/16 where Ya Boi mike green scored his first career hattrick. i cried. you cried. we all cried. here's a fic. brobeans ot3 if you squint. title from ben howard's "[time is dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kF9ijspj3l4)" which i had on repeat and all y'all should listen to.
> 
> dedicated to jarka bc she's the queen of nicky rarepairs and always indulges my need for nicky/hank and nicky/geno. ilu, jarka.

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey," Mike picks up his phone as he steps outside the noisy bar and into the quieter night air. His head is a little fuzzy from a few beers to celebrate the win, and his voice comes out softer than expected. 

 

"Hey," Nicky says on the other end, voice just as soft and fond. Mike looks at his watch and knows it's just past one in the morning in DC. "Congrats on the hatty." 

 

"You were watching?" He asks, and Nicky says _of course_ like there's no other answer to give. He says it now the way he said it a year ago when Mike scored his first goal in Detroit and Nicky called just the same. 

 

Mike leans back against the side of the building and tilts his head up, imagining Nicky at that moment. He's probably in soft sweats and a simple tee, hair brushed before bed in a futile attempt to prevent the bedhead he always inevitably gets each morning. Mike smiles at the thought. He doesn't really have a leg to stand on. 

 

"Thanks," He says, and then, "I'm glad you were watching." 

 

Nicky hums, and Mike hears him shift around, maybe to find a comfortable position for his hips. 

 

"André and Tom were here for dinner and watched as well. They send their congrats." 

 

"Is their fridge still as empty as ever? Is that why they came over?" He hears Nicky laugh, quiet and muffled probably by the pillow. He thinks about the time all three of the rookie roommates came over to Nicky's, having heard he was making dinner, only to interrupt what they had planned to be their official four year anniversary celebration. Mike was lighting the candles at the dining room table when the doorbell rang. Nicky had stared at the three of them in such outrageous disbelief, but when Burky explained that all they had in their fridge was wilting lettuce and a bunch of ketchup—  

 

Well, Nicky couldn't say no to his fellow Swede and thus couldn't say no to the other two either.  

 

"No, André's been keeping himself and Tom fed well, it seems." 

 

"It _seems_ ," Mike repeats with the most mock-suspicion he can manage. Again, he is graced with Nicky's laugh. 

 

Then, there's a moment of silence, and Mike can hear Nicky thinking from five hundred miles away. 

 

"They miss Latts."  

 

His tone is careful, cautious almost. Mike can imagine Nicky sitting across from Burky, pressing a warm mug of tea into his hands as the young winger poured his heart out to Nicky. He knows the silence from before was Nicky weighing whether to confess what Burky had said in confidence or keep it to himself. Free agency had a way of breaking hearts, Nicky must have empathized. 

 

"I know how they feel," Nicky admits, and truly it is late night in DC. Nicky always gets too honest when he's tired; he doesn't have the energy to pretend to be okay with the five hundred miles between them. Mike gets that. He closes his eyes and feels any buzz he had leave him slowly as the aching settled back into his bones. 

 

"I miss you too, Nicky." 

 

He doesn't get a response for a long time, and he focuses on the sound of music drifting outside the bar as the door swings open and shut, over and again. If he didn't know Nicky, he might think he had drifted off like he used to as a rookie during their nightly discussions on the road. Mike would be leaned back against the pillows and Nicky would be curled into his side, arm slung over Mike's stomach with Mike's hand in his messy blond hair as they talked about anything and everything their twenty-some minds thought about after midnight in the stale air of a hotel room. But, he does know Nicky, and he knows as a twenty-eight year old, Nicky can't shut his mind off sometimes. Especially when he starts thinking about the distance. 

 

"November eighteenth," Mike offers to the silence. 

 

"November eighteenth," Nicky echoes after a beat. Mike can already envision the swarm of red jerseys in Verizon Center. He doubts he'll ever get used to being in the visitors' locker room there, but he'll take every rare moment he gets in DC nowadays and enjoy it as much as he can. 

 

"I have it marked on the calendar on my fridge," He tries to joke, "Circled it with a heart and drew a little eagle too." 

 

The way Nicky hums in response is short, and Mike opens the calendar app on his phone as he asks when the Caps have more than a two-day break. 

 

"Next week, we have Sunday and Monday free." The Wings have a game against Carolina on Tuesday, and a skate on Monday, so it won't be much, but they've both been trying to make this work. Last year was tough for them, really tough, and Mike wants to do better. 

 

"Do you want to fly up here for a few days? I have morning skate on Monday, but otherwise I'm yours." 

 

"Really?" Nicky's voice is tight, and he takes a second to respond, "Like you did for the World Cup?" 

 

"Yeah," He exhales, "Like we did for the World Cup." 

 

Mike would've found a way to keep making the trip to Toronto from Detroit if Sweden had made the finals. It was only an hour flight, so he had managed to attend each of Sweden's round robin games, and his heart broke for Nicky when they lost in the semis. It had only been three weeks since the tournament ended, but it feels like longer since he last held Nicky in his arms. He hates this distance, hates the grain of Nicky's voice over the phone. It makes him think of when Nicky said _I can't keep doing this_ partway through last year and how Mike's heart had shattered at the thought of letting six years go. It's been tough, but— 

 

Thomas and Tomáš poke their heads out of the door to check on him. He gives them both a small nod. 

 

"We'll make this work, Nicky," Mike promises.  

 

He swears he can hear Nicky smiling in DC. 

 

"I love you, Mike," Nicky says easily, and Mike doesn't hesitate before he says it back. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos appreciated! thanks for reading ♡ find me on [tumblr](https://mjanmarks.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/glorypaid), yo


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